


You Kiss Me So Sweetly

by romanoff



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alpha Steve Rogers, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Attempted Rape/Non-Con, Dom/sub Undertones, Dubious Consent, Frottage, Getting Together, M/M, Masturbation, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Omega Tony Stark, Past Rape/Non-con, Vague Attempts At Worldbuilding
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-22
Updated: 2014-10-22
Packaged: 2018-02-22 05:11:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,916
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2495672
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/romanoff/pseuds/romanoff
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The usual story: Tony's an omega, Steve's an alpha. Drug induced heat, and then they're at it like rabbits.</p><p>Or, the one where Tony has a fucking awful birthday, but then Steve makes it okay.</p>
            </blockquote>





	You Kiss Me So Sweetly

**Author's Note:**

> So, please pay heed to the tags. It's an A/B/O so it goes without saying that it'll be dubious, although Tony does give consent. Warning for a scene of attempted rape that's very brief and no rape actually occurs in. Apart from that, it's basically 6,000 words of porn with some vague worldbuilding thrown in to give the whole thing a point. Enjoy.
> 
> Also, yes. The title is from 'Birthday Sex'.

It's the charcoal that does it.

Steve should clarify; he doesn't mean the charcoal he sometimes uses to sketch Central Park with in the fall. He means the slow brush of dark underneath Tony's eyes.

It's a simple shade. A defining shade. And, had Tony not chosen to wear it tonight of all nights, Steve would never have noticed it at all.

The suit is a royal blue. Slim fitting, but God, it's amazing what a good tailor can do. It hangs off him in all the right places, and isn't that just the point, really. Tonight's all about Tony.

He doesn't wear a tie; of course not, omegas don't, but the spread collar is buttoned up tight, just revealing the tantalising glimpse of the swelling glands beneath the stretched white material.

Hair an artful mess. It's a style Steve's never bothered with. He likes his hair short, controlled. Like him, really. Long hair is a hassle, and he's a military man. But Tony wears it well. It doesn't suit some omegas, it sometimes looks contrived. It works on Tony, though. He's rich, he's powerful, it should do. It takes a certain type of class to pull off a look like this.

Someone, Steve doesn't know who, has run a line of gloss over his thick lips. Whoever put the rest of this together. It wasn't Tony, that's for sure, because in the three years he's known him Steve has never seen outside of formal suits and tank tops. There is no in-between with him.

Except now. Maybe that's why it's such a shock. Such a jar to the system. Because Tony looks really, really good.

His scent is so clear tonight, he just smells like he's coming up for a heat. God, that's a good smell. Rich, feisty, intoxicating. Someone has touched him with cologne, just at the two points on his neck that look tender and soft.

Steve wonders if he's slick.

Tony looks up, fiddling with a cufflink. "Happy birthday to me." He says in his usual voice, a bored drawl.

Steve swallows. "Yeah," he agrees "happy birthday to you."

 

It's traditional. The birthday that coincides with an omega's heat is supposed to be a cause for celebration. He's surprised Tony goes for it, the liberal that he is, but he supposes that a man that rich must have the conservative roots somewhere in the back of his mind.

Or maybe it was Pepper.

Either way, they all ride in chauffeur driven cars. Clint and Natasha, the spies. Bruce and Thor, the strength. Steve and Tony: Alpha and omega. 

Again, it's all tradition. The omega arrives with an alpha, that's just how it goes. A strong, protecting alpha. The one that watches out for all the other inevitable attempts at seduction that Tony will be batting off tonight. He thinks it's normally supposed to be Rhodes, that maybe once it was Obadiah, possibly even Howard. Now though, they're a team, and there are expectations, and Tony has already stated, categorically, that this is about publicity and networking and under no circumstances is it an opportunity for him to get laid.

It's a shame, though, that the other alphas don't think that. Steve understands it, actually. He can't even talk. Right now, it's embarrassing, because he knows he's giving off ridiculous 'mine' vibes and Tony is polite enough not to mention it. Trusts him enough to not to act, even though Steve is powerful and if he wanted could have his way with Tony, any way with Tony, in this car right now and leave him to stumble out, heat-drunk, into the lights of the paparazzi.

"Sorry," Steve apologises when the smell gets too much. "The hind-brain's telling me one thing, sense is telling me another."

Tony raises his eyebrows, smiles. Waves a hand. "I wouldn't worry about it, Steve. I get it."

"What's that you're wearing?"

Tony makes a face. "I don't know. The stylist said it emphasises pheromones. I told her it's just not what I want tonight of all nights, you know? But then I figured why the hell not, when was the last time I got to dress up nice?"

Steve laughs. "I knew it. You didn't strike me as the type."

"Good judge of character, then. I haven't had one of these since, I don't know, I was thirty? They're expensive, and, no offence, but alpha's think with their genitals whenever they get within five feet of me."

"You do smell really, really good."

"Come on, Steve," Tony whines "not you too."

Steve holds up his hands. "Sorry, sorry. I know. It must be frustrating."

Tony pauses, fiddles with his cuffs again. Then he looks up. "I really hate these things."

"You do?"

"Yeah. They always seem like a good idea at the time, and then the night rolls round." Tony swallows. "There's always someone who thinks they have a shot."

"You shouldn't have the party if you don't want to be sniffed at."

Tony shoots him a look of irritation. "Yeah, or you could stop sniffing."

"That's not what I meant."

"Sure."

"No, it's not," Steve says, and his hand hovers over Tony's arm, not wanting to touch. "I'm not one of those guys. I meant that you shouldn't hold the party if you hate them so much."

Tony relaxes. "Have too. Who am I to defy societal convention? What kind of freak doesn't have a heat party? Didn't you catch the memo? I'm at my most fertile."

"That's an old wives tale."

"Of course it is. I'm less fertile now than I was twenty years ago, but what do they care? I'm just a nice hole for the evening."

"Tony!"

"Sorry," Tony says lightly "my mom always said I should hold off on the vulgar talk in front of alphas on a heat eve. They don't like they comparison."

Steve doesn't comment on that. Because what he wants to say is that he likes that fire, he likes that spit. He likes the idea of having a partner who doesn't roll over and take it. He wants to wear Tony down until he writhes and scratches at Steve's back and it's not just some heat, it's real, and he is wanted.

Christ, where did that come from? Maybe he shouldn't have accepted this. Tony's smelling hotter, and Steve shifts uncomfortably.

"So you won't be unbuttoning your collar tonight, then?"

Tony looks out the window. "Maybe. I don't know."

Tony's shirt is done up tightly. That's good, he reminds himself, that's a good thing. He wants to keep it that way. One button undone signals looking for someone, it's enough to show of his glands, and Steve wants to avoid that at all costs.

They fall into silence, then. Steve assumes he's pushed too far.

But then, Tony speaks.

"In full disclosure," he says, waving a hand "just, just FYI. I," he swallows, licks his lips. He shakes his head. "Never mind."

"What?"

"Nothing."

"Tony, you can't do that."

"It's not, it's not rape, you know? If I'm in heat. I can't get them tried for rape. Did you know that there are only a handful of indicators that will stand up in court for a heat rape to go to trial?"

Steve blinks. "Why are you telling me this?"

"The omega has to have been injured in some way. That's the first one. If that's not true, then none of the other points even stand. Tonight, I could get drugged, and they could find traces in my blood toxicity, and even if it was obvious I was coerced and there were a million witnesses, it wouldn't matter if I hadn't been hurt," Tony pauses "and even then, that slides. Because lots of us like that, you know? We like it to hurt. So."

"I see."

"Yeah. Being drunk is a nothing. That counts for zero. He raped me, well, I was drunk. Tough. You should've been more careful. That stands for any drink. Any drink that may have been drugged, too."

"You won't be raped tonight, Tony."

"Would you let me finish?" He snaps irritably. "So, let's say you have been hurt, and there's a sign of physical violence, and, just for extra, you've been drugged, and they find it in your blood, and, for posterity, there've been strong, clear witnesses to all of it. You still don't have a case. Know why? Because it's not their fault. It's not the alpha's fault. You're in heat. You shouldn't be out. You should be at home, being kept safe. Really, it's your fault. You're totally irresistible." Tony looks at Steve. "I don't know. What does it feel like being around me in heat? Am I irresistible?"

Steve's nostrils flare slightly. "It's hard to hold back. No, no actually, it's not. It's just that I really, I mean, any omega, but you want them. It's not hard to stop, but it's very easy to start."

"And you're in your right mind, yeah? It's not like when I -- " Tony stops "it's not like when omegas are three days down in heat. You're not out of your mind."

"How can we be? We need to be ready to protect."

"So." Tony says "That begs the question, why am I held accountable?"

Steve looks at him. "Were you hurt? Before? Is that why you're nervous?"

"Me? No. Not really. Uh, you come across sickos everyday. How'd you like it, Stark, where'd you want it, do you beg for it? That sort of thing. I've never -- I mean, it wasn't rape, right?" Tony smiles wryly. "I was in heat."

"I'm sorry."

"It wasn't that bad."

"Don't say that."

"Yeah well I have to. It makes me sick to the stomach to think of it any other way."

There. There's something else he's learnt about Tony today.

Is it good to know? Maybe. There are certain things, certain cues, that Tony takes from him. He doesn't defer to Steve's judgement, but he contradicts politely, always with the slight tilt of the head to show the spread of his neck. It's good to know, now, just in case he ever pushes too far.

"What I'm trying to say, in my long winded, roundabout way," Tony says, smiling gracefully. "Is just that -- stick with me, tonight."

"You're asking for protection?"

"You're my alpha, aren't you? That's how this pack thing is going to work?"

"You've never been in a pack?"

"Never."

A surge of protectiveness. "Am I, am I your first pack alpha?"

"Yeah." Tony says, softly.

Steve looks at him again. The tight suit that suits so perfectly. The high, pointed collar. The plump lips, and those dark, beautiful eyes, flashing, outlined in kohl.

"I never took you for a traditionalist." Steve says, eyes on Tony's lips.

"I'm not. But it has it's merits, as backwards and inept as some of them may be."

 

Tony walks up the steps to the country manor, and Steve watches the sway of his ass.

No. Tony walks up the steps, and Steve watches for potential threats. That's what he's doing. He's not --

God, is he hot for it yet? Steve bets he is. His tight little hole is probably quivering --

Jesus, did none of their conversation register in his brain? Tony's off limits. 100% off limits. How he spends his heat is not Steve's business. His business is to stand next to Tony and flex his muscles.

Tony looks back, raises an eyebrow. "Stop looking at my ass and hustle, Captain."

Steve hops up the steps two at a time, stands by his shoulder. "Where's the rest of us?" He asks.

Tony shrugs and murmurs something, an action lost in the bustle of camera snaps and talk.

"Tony!" Someone says "Look this way!"

"Is the Captain your date for tonight?"

"What's your suit?"

"Will you be unbuttoning?!"

"No comment," Tony says easily, and he turns to Steve "shall we go inside? We can meet them in there."

Inside, it's worse, but everyone's too polite to be blatant about it. "Happy birthday, darling." A million different people say, placing delicate kisses on Tony's cheeks. Steve isn't imagining that Tony smells more ripe than any of them, that he was right to have protection tonight. Hell, if Steve wasn't his friend, he'd probably see if Tony was willing too.

There are alphas, too. Already sizing him up. And then they look at Steve, and slink away. Because who in their right mind would try to go up again him.

"Champagne," Tony murmurs "do you want some?"

"Are you taking any?"

"I'm going to the bar. Scotch on the rocks. Can I get you anything?"

This is good. Let Tony buy him something. Takes the edge off, makes it feel less like he's trying to woo him.

"Sure." Steve says with a smile.

Tony tips $50 into the tip jar, yawns. "Sorry," he says covering his mouth "this is boring."

"It's not," Steve protests "it's just not... interesting."

Tony chuckles, and sips from his drink. "We're on the same page with that."

Steve leans against the bar slightly, relaxes. Sips his drink, and makes a face. "Ugh," he says "what is this?"

Tony sniffs. "Whiskey?"

"Christ, that's sharp."

Tony smiles. "You're such an old man."

"I'm not a big fan of alcohol."

"I probably wouldn't be either if I couldn't get drunk."

"Tony?"

Tony turns, smiles at Bruce. "Hey, big guy."

"God you're such a flirt," he murmurs, kissing him on both cheeks. "Happy birthday."

"Yeah," Tony sighs "another year closer to an unnatural death, possibly by radiation or falling from an extreme height."

"Aww, darling," Clint says "don't think of it that way. Think of it as another year survived."

"You would," Tony mumbles "you don't have anything to live for."

Clint flicks his ear. "I'll let it slide, since your another year older, and obviously senile."

"What's that you're wearing?" Natasha says, coming up behind him. "It's rich."

"Too rich," Tony answers, kissing her hair fondly. "It's that woman you hired."

"She did a good job," Nat says appraisingly "good enough to fuck."

"Hot O on O action I'm 100% down for." Clint says seriously. "I mean it, if you guys, like, want to start taking off your clothes -- "

"And moving on." Steve says abruptly, sipping from his drink. His face twists. 

"Dance with me," Natasha says "come on, Anton. Show them what they can't have."

Tony seems to debate for a moment, but then smirks. Lets Natasha lead him out onto the floor.

Clint gives a low whistle. "Look at them go. Frustrating, isn't it? Look but don't touch."

Steve side-eyes him. "You're disgusting."

"Which one would you rather do? Nat? Tony? Both? At the same time?"

"The literal definition of the word 'pig'."

Clint laughs. "Nah, you know I'm kidding. I'm way out of their league -- joking! I'm joking!"

"You wish you were."

"Oh, I don't know." Clint sighs. "I've taken Nat through a few, you know? But don't pretend it doesn't get you riled up knowing that tonight Tony's gonna be fucking himself. We could all do with a little honesty."

"He's going his house in the Hamptons."

"Right. He's got the right idea. I wouldn't trust myself, once he starts begging."

Steve makes a face. "Please don't."

"Look at you," Clint says "you've got him on your mind, haven't you?"

"He's not popping his collar tonight."

"A pity." Clint says, sipping. "Not for us," he says quickly. "For him. It's no fun being alone for a heat."

 

The night passes quickly, after that. Steve chats, and watches Tony from afar. Checks the alphas who think they have a chance.

It's the early hours of the morning when Tony comes spinning into his arms.

"Steve," he giggles "Steve."

"Tony," he hisses "your shirt."

It's pulled open, just at the top. The first button, nothing more. But Steve can see those two swollen mounds on his neck, just onto top of his collarbones. Aching to be touched.

Steve gets a sharp whiff of his scent, so close. God, he would love to bring down his teeth onto those glands, start the whole process. See Tony get weak at the knees, his pants wet with slick, fall into Steve's arms and come apart.

But he can't.

"Get off me." He says. "Stop it, Tony, do up your collar."

Tony makes a 'psht' noise. "Why?" He whines. "It's my party. I'm gonna have fun, Stevie," he boops him on the nose "I'm gonna have fun."

"You can have fun with your collar done up."

"But I want to fuck." He says, rubbing himself against Steve. "Mmm, can you smell me? I bet I smell good."

He takes Steve's hand and presses it down, just on top of his cock. "I'm getting hard." He whispers. "Soon I'll be slick. Don't you want that? Don't you?"

"You're drunk." Steve says gently. "Remember what we said? You're drunk. You don't want me, really. It's just your body."

"You don't want me?" Tony says, pouting, heartbroken. "Stevie, I can be so good."

"Tony, let go of my hand, let's not make a scene."

Tony's eyes narrow. "Fuck's sake, Steve," he hisses "I'm in heat. Where's your fucking decency?"

"I'm not going to sleep with you, Tony."

Tony pushes off him, makes a disgusted noise, turns tail. Steve watches him disappear into the crowd.

"You turning down a slice like that?" An O clicks her tongue "That's just cruel."

Steve fights the urge to tell her to piss off, and seeks out Natasha. "Tony's ready to leave. I don't want to get too close, he's drunk."

Natasha looks at him. "He's drunk?"

"One too many scotches."

Natasha shakes her head, and her hand comes to clench his arm. "Steve, Tony wouldn't get drunk. He's not that -- that's an unbelievable risk."

"It's his birthday."

Natasha looks at him. "Where did he go?"

Steve points. "That way -- "

"Come." She says, tugging him through the crowd.

"Excuse me," Steve says, apologising to indignant guests as the push through "sorry."

"Hey Captain," a man says, stopping him with a hand on his arm "where's the birthday boy?"

"We're trying to find out." Steve grits.

"Say, you think he'd like a piece of my monster -- "

Steve crushes his foot beneath his boot. "Listen, buddy, quit while your ahead."

The man recoils, people turning to stare. "Fuck!" He shrieks "My foot, he broke my -- "

"Idiot," someone mutters "going after Captain America's O, had it coming."

There's a flash of red in front of Steve's vision. Captain America's O.

Tony is his?

He keeps moving, following Natasha round the crowd. She shakes her head. "He's not here." She hisses.

"Make an announcement."

"And have every cock-hungry alpha in the place go sniffing? Not fucking likely. You check left wing, I'll go right."

They split up. "Thor," Steve hisses on his way to the door. "Tony's missing. Take Clint and Bruce and get looking. Check the grounds, the wood, every bush. I'm taking the left wing and Natasha's in right, understand?"

Thor looks grave, and his head turns, as if in search.

Steve hurries on. There's no question, then, that Tony's been taken. Taken, and most likely drugged. Was it the scotch? The bartender, maybe. Must've done something to the drink. The ice, even, they drugged the ice with some kind of, some kind of --

Steve smells him. God, he smells him. That thick, hot smell, with Tony it's sweet, like sugar, but high and tangy. Now, Steve smells it going brittle at the edges.

He moves silently down the corridor. "You like that?" He hears, and then a yelp.

"I like," Tony croaks "I like that. Stop, now, fucking stop -- "

"Play with them. Go on. Rub them, I want to see."

"Stop," Tony's low voice comes again "no."

"What was that?" The man giggles, and that's the worst part, he's taunting him. "Did you say something?"

Steve peers through the crack in the door, sees Tony, sees the man, and then sees his accomplice, the bartender, standing with his gun pressed to the back of Tony's head.

Tony's hands are up and rubbing at his chest, his nipples, his shirt ripped open and buttons scattered round the floor. The man presses back, back, back, presses him against the wall.

Tony moans, and Steve sees his legs give out. The man keeps an insistent pressure against his cock, keeps rubbing him, grinning.

"You wet yet?" He breathes into his ear. "Keep playing with them. Turn round."

"Fuck off," Tony manages, voice thin "stop." He gasps. 

The bartender keeps the gun trained on his head as he's slammed chest first into the wall. The man laughs appreciatively. "Look at that," he says "soaked through."

He runs a hand over Tony's clothed ass. Rubs at the point where the fabric is wet, a darker blue than the rest of the suit, and brings it up to smell.

He inhales deeply. "Beautiful. Just beautiful. Let's get you out of here, Stark."

Tony struggles against him, but at the same time, he sinks into the touch. Steve watches as they move, back, dragging Tony between them.

"Is the car ready?" The man asks, sniffing deeply at Tony's neck. "We'll take the fire exit."

Steve moves back from the door and runs down the corridor. Fire exit, fire exit, fire exit. He'll wait there, take them by surprise, before it's too late to get him back, before they shoot Tony through the skull.

He hears muffled voices moving down the corridor. "God," he hears "wait till I make you crawl."

Steve grabs a lid from one of the metal trash cans, breathes heavily in the night. He sees the door open, and it's bartender first.

He crashes the metal into his skull, and he goes reeling. The man holding Tony throws him to the grass and tries to duck, but Steve swipes his legs out from under him.

"What do you think you're doing?" He spits "Huh?"

He presses his foot over the man's cock. Pushes.

The man gasps. "Stop," he says "stop I swear, he asked for it. He wanted it, didn't he, didn't he. We were just fooling around, that's how he likes it -- "

"What part of 'stop' don't you understand, man?" Steve says, pressing harder.

The man cries out. "He's in heat!" He says "He's in heat! I couldn't help myself! I, I have a condition, I swear, I swear, he wants it -- "

Steve brings the lid down on the man's face.

"Tony?" He says, falling to the floor. "God, I'm sorry. I'm sorry, I said I'd watch you, are you okay? Are you hurt?"

Tony tries to cover himself with the remains of his shirt, holds it tight round his chest. "Don't look."

Steve respectfully turns away. "Did he hurt you?"

"Aphrodisiac." Tony mumbles. "I think. I really, it's started. You need to get me home."

"The Hamptons," Steve says "I'm on it. Here, let me help."

"No," Tony says, fingers digging into Steve's forearms. "Tower. Don't want to be alone. Don't -- what if they come back?"

Steve fumbles for his phone. "Nat?" He says "Nat, we found him. Yeah. He was. No, no it's -- he's okay. I have two men here, did you call the cops? That's fine, but I need to get Tony home. The tower. Yeah, I'll be okay. He's fine. Hurry."

"Here," Steve says, and he eases his coat over Tony's shoulders. "C'mon. We'll go round the back."

"Chivalrous." Tony shivers. "Ch-ch-chivalrous."

"Easy."

"I think I'm going to throw up." He manages, and then his knees give out. He moans.

See, that's it. It wasn't a groan, or a cry of pain. It was a moan. A sound of sexual pleasure.

"It's okay," Steve says, and he scoops him up "come on, home we go."

"I'm so wet." Tony mutters thickly, eyes falling closed as Steve carries him. He shifts in his grip, arches slightly, as if trying to find relief.

"Shh, Tony." Steve says sharply.

Tony's fingers find his shirt, twist there. "Don't let them see." He whispers.

"I won't, we're almost there. Wait, Natasha!"

The red hair spins through the air as she turns. "God," she says into a phone "he's here, I've found him."

"Nat?" Tony mumbles as she pushes one hand through his hair. "I think, I'm in heat."

"Yeah you are," Natasha breathes "get him inside. Quickly, move."

Natasha opens the door and Steve slides in, dragging Tony with him.

"Wait," he says, blinking "my jacket, it was really expensive. We should, I should go get it."

"Get in the car, Tony," Natasha says gently.

Tony looks back at Steve, and then to Natasha.

"I won't hurt you," Steve says sincerely "I swear I won't even touch you. Come on, now."

Tony shuffles into the car, pressed against the window as the door closes.

"Drive," Steve says to whoever's in front "put up the partition, try to clear the air."

In such a confined space, Steve sees what Tony was saying about him being irresistible. He winces when he sees the glands on Tony's neck, swollen and round.

"Do they hurt?"

Tony nods, and rubs at them, head falling back.

"Don't," Steve says sharply "don't do that."

"Hurts." Tony croaks. "God, they're like, feel like golf balls."

"Are you sure they didn't hurt you?"

Tony whines, kicks out his legs. Steve sees the darkening patch between them. "Feel like, I need it." He arches his back, gasps. "Oh," he moans. "Oh, Steve."

"Hold on, Tony."

"Can't," he pants "my belly, hurts. I need," Tony's eyes flick open "come on, Steve." He says lowly. "Please."

"No," Steve says "absolutely not, stay back."

"But I'm so aching," he whines "come on."

Steve would love to. He would love to bite down on Tony's neck, feel the slick soak his legs, but he can't. He imagines pushing into Tony's heat, fulling the clench of him, and he pushes back against the window.

"Come here." He says, with finality. 

"Thank you," Tony says "thank you, God."

"I'm not gonna fuck you, okay? Just enough to take the edge off."

"Anything," Tony breathes "anything, please."

He straddles Steve's lap, thrusts against his belly. "Can I come like this? Please? I need to feel you, that's all, I just need to," Tony inhales deeply, groans, then throws back his head. "Yes. That's it. Touch my neck. Please, Steve, touch my neck."

Steve takes his middle finger and his thumb, rubs them over the two spots on Tony's neck. The smaller man suddenly exhales, and starts dragging himself slowly against Steve's thigh.

He moans. Licks a stripe along Steve's neck. "Yes," he mutters "yes."

Steve can feel the wet heat of his slick against his thigh and he presses out his hips, gives Tony the leverage he needs.

"That's it," Steve soothes "come on. Do what you need."

Tony makes a small sob against Steve's neck. His hips continue their drag as he ruts against Steve.

"Are you going to come?" Steve says, murmuring into his ear. "Can you come like this? Just fucking my leg, like an animal?"

Tony gives a cry, and Steve thumbs his glands. Each time Tony comes back down, he smoothes his ass along Steve's leg, tries to feel a weight against his hole. 

"That's it," Steve says "are you ready? Will you come when I order?"

Tony sobs. "Yes," he says "yes, let me come."

"Okay," Steve says "whenever you're ready. Come now, Tony."

Tony groans against Steve's neck, his hands tightening in his shirt. He continues rutting through his orgasm, hips working frantically, panting, moaning. He slumps, his come staining Steve's shirt where it's soaked through.

"There," Steve says "easy, Tony. Try to sleep, is that better?"

"Mmmh," Tony mumbles, curling close against Steve's chest. "Warm."

Steve huffs. "Yeah," he says "I know. Just try to close your eyes."

 

Tony's back in that hall. It's his birthday.

"Tony?" Steve says, coming up behind him. 

He turns. "Hey, Steve."

Steve smirks. Tilts his head.

"Look at you," he murmurs, raising his hand, thumbing under Tony's chin. "Swollen."

Tony swallows. "I'm due."

"Looks like it." Steve says. "Your body certainly thinks so."

"My body thinks a lot without consulting me."

Steve hand curls around his neck. Squeezes lightly on his glands.

His knees buckle.

"Just like that," Steve whispers, catching him by the waist and pulling him close "I know how to make O's like you squirm."

Tony feels the heat pool in his belly. He looks up. Bares his throat.

"That's it," Steve soothes "that's what I like to see. Rote submission. You're good, under all of it."

"I can be," Tony swallows against Steve's hand "so good."

Steve smiles down at him, this time warm. He slowly teases Tony's neck, those two glands, making him moan.

"Yes," he breathes "yes."

"Do you want this?" Steve murmurs.

Tony whimpers, and let's Steve lower him to the floor. "I said, do you want this?"

"Want you," Tony says softly "in me. Please."

Steve tsks. "Look at you. Desperate."

Tony groans, spreads his legs, arches his back, as Steve kneels between them.

"Here?" He says, teasing a hand up Tony's still irritatingly clothed thigh "Where everyone can see?"

Tony moans. "Yes, please."

"Where everyone will know you're mine?"

Tony palms himself through the fabric of his pants. "Yes," he says "yes I want that."

Steve tugs at his shirt, bearing his throat, his chest. He rubs each thumb over a swollen nub of a nipple.

"All these people can see you getting hot for me, Tony," Steve says "how does that feel?"

"Please fuck me."

"Please? Already? Wow," Steve pinches lightly and Tony gives a yelp, arching. "Everyone saw that. Everyone can see you reacting to me."

Tony thrusts, slightly, into the air. "Steve." He breathes.

"You sure you want this, Tony?"

"I want you."

 

Tony wakes up in his bed in a puddle of his own slick.

It's a familiar feeling. An old feeling. He tries to place together the events that lead him here, but they scatter.

He sucks on his mouth, tastes last nights liquor. His balls feel tight, and full, like they do during a heat.

The room is dark apart from the light streaming gently through the windows.

This is okay. This is easy, slight. He's not in deep, yet. Gently, he rolls onto his belly, pushes a pillow down between his legs.

He gasp at the friction. Yes, that's it. Slowly, he rolls his hips, moaning. 

His cock works against the material and he presses his head into his sheets. Slow, steady. A perfect build.

There's slick running down the back of his thighs. He feels where it's cooler in the air. The dream must have really strung him out. He gives another low moan as he finds a sweet angle, rocks gently onto the pillow. He feels the building of pleasure in his gut, feels it sweep through his body.

He's going to come.

It's hot enough that he doesn't bother with the sheets. When he's finished, he kicks the pillow to the ground, rolls onto his back. He lays there, awhile, half in and out of sleep, the daze of heat holding him close, wrapping round him smoothly.

Arousal, low in his belly. Soon, he'll need something larger to take off the edge, but that's okay. He has toys, and time.

Gently, he hitches one hand round the back of a knee, and lifts. It spreads him, and he shifts minutely, lets some slick grind into the already damp sheets.

He moves his other leg further apart so he's open. When he teases his hand down his chest, he cups his own balls. Gently squeezes, gasping. His fingers go lower, feel the wetness of his own hole as it tries to clench around the tip of his finger. 

He eases one in, deep into himself. He sighs, relief singing through his body. That's good. That's what he needs. Two fingers, and he fucks himself easily, slowly, setting his own pace.

Perfect.

He crooks his fingers slightly, lets them scrape against his sensitive inner walls. In a heat, every part of him is pleasurable, every breath of friction enough to satisfy the ache inside him. Later, he'll plug himself with a toy, let is expand within him until he's gaping, just a like a knot.

One hand teasing his hole, he brings the other to his cock. He rubs his thumb over the tip, arching, breath heavy. He runs his hand over the length of himself, whimpers in pleasure.

This. This is it. He knows that if he planned it carefully, he'd be able to come from his ass and his cock. The omega man's gift. But now, it takes too much time. He's caught in a heady trap of pleasure, and he's unwilling to break free. So he just rocks against his own hand and fucks his fingers.

"Steve," he moans "Steve."

Imagines that it's him, the alpha, fucking into him instead. Yes, yes that would be so good. So perfect. It's all he needs.

He gasps. "Yes," he manages "yes."

He cries out when he comes, for the second time that morning. He's sensitive enough that it borders on painful, and he allows himself to writhe, mouth caught in the 'O' for which he is named, eye rolling back in his head, fingers fisting at the sheets.

He comes down, shivering. Breathing.

He swipes between his asscheeks, over his hole. Shudders at the sensation.

Brings his fingers to his mouth, and tastes his own slick.

And then begins again.

 

Steve knocks on the door.

"Tony?" He says "Tony, are you alright in there? Are you decent?"

There's no sound.

"Are you sleeping?" Steve says stupidly.

Again, no answer.

For awhile, Steve fights with indecision. They don't know what drug they gave him; he could be dead. No that's ridiculous. But he could be hurt. Or maybe Steve's just trying to find an excuse to enter. Either way, maybe it's best he checks him out.

"Tony?" Steve says again, rapping his knuckles agains the door. "I'm coming in."

He opens the door, peers round the edge.

Smiles.

Tony's stretched out over his bed. There's a sheet haphazardly thrown over his ass.

But he can still see the curve of it. The fullness.

His legs, one bent at the knee. His long, lean back, rising and falling with each sleep-breath.

Steve should leave, now. He's okay. He's just resting.

But something tells him to get closer.

He moves softly to the bed, stands over Tony's sleeping form. His lips are parted, slightly. Red, where they've been bitten.

Steve crouches. Traces on finger over his features.

He's so beautiful. Mussed, and skin slick with exertion. His eyes still have traces of dark kohl on their lids. He's perfect in every way.

He opens his eyes.

Steve freezes. 

There's silence, while Steve waits for him to speak. To say something.

Eventually, Steve swallows. "I'm sorry." He croaks.

Tony blinks, soft. "It's okay." He murmurs. "Thank you, for last night."

Steve curls a piece of errant hair behind his ear. "Don't worry." He whispers.

Tony leans into the touch, eyes closing. He breathes, gently.

"Stay." He murmurs.

"I can't." Steve says, guilty.

Tony opens his eyes, traces Steve's cheekbone with his thumb. "You can," he says softly "I want you."

Steve smiles sadly. "You don't, remember? This is just, you're in heat."

Tony breathes in deeply. "I'm calm," he says quietly "I'm rational. I want you."

Steve can feel himself waver. "I would never forgive myself if you didn't want this."

Tony twists, and lifts himself to press a kiss to Steve's lips. "I do." He whispers.

Steve drags a hand down the back of his neck, twists it into the hair there. Tony shivers.

"Lay back," he says "relax. Let me make you feel good."

He climbs onto the bed, settles between Tony's legs. He feels Tony's ass under the white sheet.

"How many times have you come, Tony?"

"Six." He croaks.

"All from your cock?"

"My ass, too."

Steve smirks. "Is it true that male O's can come from both at the same time?"

Tony nods, shudders, closes his eyes.

"Well. Let's try to make that happen."

Steve tugs the sheet from Tony's ass, kicks it to the floor. The kneads the cheeks, and Tony spreads his legs.

"You're wet," Steve notes "very wet. Has it eased off at all?"

Tony shakes his head.

"Hey, shh. It's okay. Relax." Steve spreads Tony's cheeks, exposes his clenching hole. "I'm going to fuck you," Steve says, voice mellow "and then I'm going to make you come."

"Please." Tony sighs. "Yes."

Steve straddles his ass. Tony shifts under his bulk, flattens his hands to the bed, and Steve drags nails softly down his back, all the way to the top of his ass.

"Feel good?"

Tony moans.

"Just let go," Steve soothes "that's all I want you to do."

He smoothes his hands over Tony's back, finds the pressure points, kneads them until they relax. 

With one hand, he slides a finger into Tony's hole. "You're loose," he notes "dripping."

"I was desperate." Tony manages.

"I see that." Steve smiles, and leans forward, breathes against Tony's neck.

Gently, he slides in. He hears Tony's soft exhale, feels the hot warmth of him clenching down on his length. He catches Tony's wrists in each hand, holds them to the bed by their heads. 

He rocks into him. Tony makes soft, wet noises of pleasure, as Steve's balls slap against his ass.

"That's it," Steve says, voice aching "that's it, Tony."

Tony shifts, and for a moment Steve can't work it out, but then he rises onto his knees, presents his ass. "Harder." He manages, voice hoarse.

Steve fucks into him. "Are you gonna come?" 

Tony nods desperately.

"Well don't." Steve says, with a succinct clap to his ass. "I'm saving that."

Tony groans, fists his hands into the sheets. "Steve," he gasps.

"Nearly there, Tony."

"You gonna knot me?"

"No," Steve says, and he gasps, panting, fucking into him harder, faster.

Tony gives a high cry. "Yes," he says "yes, Steve, yes."

"You like that?"

"Fuck me," he breathes "fuck me."

Steve comes with a cry, pulling out to jet onto Tony's damp hole. Tony breathes with the force of being free and Steve slumps, rests his hands on Tony's ass.

He sucks in a breath. Pants.

"How was that?" He says.

Tony rolls onto his back, squirms. "Mmm," he agrees, reaching down to tease Steve's come on his ass. "Satisfying."

"You want more?"

"Please."

Steve grins. He takes Tony's ankles, spreads them wide on the bed. "Come two at the same time?"

"If you think you're alpha enough." Tony says, eye half-lidded and smile lax on his face.

"It ever happened before?" Steve says, stroking Tony's cock slowly.

Tony makes a small noise of pleasure and shifts. "Not with an alpha." He sighs contentedly.

"First time for everything."

Steve slides three fingers deep into Tony's ass, and he bucks with it. "Ah," he says "more."

"Deeper?" Steve says innocently with a particularly wicked thrust "Or wider?" He says, spreading the rim of Tony's hold wide around his fingers.

"Both." Tony gasps. "Both."

Steve begins to fist Tony's cock, coming down to suck on the tip. Tony whimpers.

"That good, huh?"

Tony makes an inarticulate noise of pleasure, nods, plays with the swollen nipples on his chest.

Steve picks up the pace, fucking Tony harshly with three fingers, the long drag in and out driving Tony over the edge. "Steve," he wails "please."

Steve presses down, taking Tony's length in one. He sucks, taking him straight to the root, as Tony fucks into his mouth, unrestrained.

"I bet you could come right now."

Tony nods. "Yes," he pants "yes."

"What about here?" Steve says, fucking his fingers into Tony, fisting his cock. "Can you feel it? Can you hold it back?"

"I c-can't," Tony says "please."

"Only if you promise to come from your cock and your ass, Tony."

"Fuck," he sobs, and he sucks in a breath "yes," he pleads "yes, yes, just let me come."

Steve leans down, presses a kiss just below Tony's navel. "You're so beautiful like this." He murmurs against his skin.

Tony comes. His entire body arches, his hands twisting in the sheets, feet kicking, as he screams his release, whimpers, cries Steve's name.

He lies there, panting. Entire body heaving with it.

Steve lies next to him. Tip-toes up his arm, over his collar bones. He leans down, and sucks on Tony's gland.

Tony moans. "No," he says "too much."

Steve snorts and Tony laughs, slightly, face rolling round to meet his.

"Was that... fun?"

Tony nods, sleepily. "You're very good."

"I know." Steve pauses. "I'm sorry about last night."

"Don't ruin the moment."

"I mean it. If I had been watching, if I hadn't -- I'm sorry."

"No harm," Tony says, curling onto his side, taking Steve's hand and pressing a kiss to the palm. "If you hadn't been there at all, God knows where I'd be now."

Steve looks, through half-lidded eyes, as Tony takes each finger into his mouth and sucks.

"I mean what I say," Steve says again "you're beautiful."

Tony smiles, and presses his nose into the pillow. He inhales.

Steve traces a finger round his shoulder, down his arm, and then over again.

**Author's Note:**

> Aww. Happy ending. Assume that the guys that tried to take Tony have been locked away for a long time. This will probably become a series of porny A/B/O one-shots, so.
> 
> Comments are GREATLY APPRECIATED and if you have any questions or prompts find me on MY NEW writing blog [romanoff](http://writingromanoff.tumblr.com/)


End file.
